


Wise Old Camembert

by Miso



Series: A War He Can't Forget [8]
Category: SCTV (Canada TV)
Genre: Cute, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents, dad the veteran talks to boyfriend the veteran and its rly sad/cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 21:20:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10670994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miso/pseuds/Miso
Summary: Floyd meets Earl's family. Merle has some words of wisdom he'd like to share.





	Wise Old Camembert

**Author's Note:**

> I LOVE MERLE AS AN ACTUAL COMPETENT PARENT. needless to say he's probably going to end up being more of a dad to floyd than his actual dad could ever even hope to be. :P

Floyd hadn't worked for SCTV in the Merle Camembert days. All he knew about the elusive elder Camembert was that he was something of a fink, may or may not be a Communist, and that he was Earl's dad. That was it. Merle was a mystery, a mythical figure in the history of his workplace, and no one spoke much of him outside of his son.

Which was why it felt weird that he was going to be meeting him in person. "... You know, part of me wondered if your dad really existed," Floyd began, trying to break the tension, only to be met with a bewildered look from Earl. "I mean... no one even talks about him, except you."

"Did you think I was grown in a test tube or something?" Earl responded, half-seriously and half-jokingly as he rung the doorbell. "I swear, you'll get along fine with Dad. You might even have some common ground." Common ground? Floyd was trying to imagine what he could have in common with an elderly second-generation American and almost felt like he'd found it (bitterly religious upbringing, maybe?) when two women slightly older than Earl threw the front door open.

"YOU'RE HERE!" They cried in unison, one yanking Earl inside by his lapels and squeezing him so tight he let out a choked noise of dissent. The second joined the group hug, and they both squealed happily as they, as far as Floyd could tell, attempted to strangle Earl. When they finally, finally let go, Earl straightened himself out and turned to Floyd with a tiny smile.

"My sisters," he explained. Ah. Floyd nodded but said nothing. He'd never really been fantastic with strangers. Earl turned back to the women, who wasted absolutely no time in shoving Floyd inside as well and looking him over.

"Ooh, he's tall!"

"Look at his eyes! So handsome!"

"Cute butt!"

"Look at those muscles! He's built like a tree!"

Floyd blushed and sent Earl a terrified 'please help me' look. Earl's response was a mouthed 'I'm so sorry' before a portly, elderly woman in an apron bopped one of the women on the head with a wooden spoon. "Girls! You leave that poor man alone!" she chided them. "Do you have to do this every time your brother brings home one of his boyfriends? Good lord, no wonder he never does!"

"Ma, we were just-"

"Torturing another one of your brother's better halves, yes, I can tell! Get in that kitchen, keep an eye on that bread!" Mrs. Camembert chased her daughters into the kitchen with said wooden spoon, then turned to Earl and smiled warmly. "Welcome home, baby," she said, wrapping her arms around him and kissing his cheek. "Oh, good lord. You look more and more like your father every time I see you."

"That's not very nice," Earl commented, regarding his mother with a smile all the same. "Mom, this is my boyfriend, Floyd."

"Oh!" She turned and smiled. "I'm sorry about Ariel and Sarah. They... have a thing about Earl's boyfriends."

"It's fine," Floyd half-lied. He extended his hand. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Camembert."

"Sweetie, please, call me Zippy," Mrs. Camembert answered as she gently shook Floyd's hand. Zippy? The confusion on Floyd's face must have been apparent, because she added, "Short for Zipporah. My brother and sisters could never pronounce it when we were growing up, so they just called me Zippy, and it stuck!" She smiled warmly. "Merle is in the den if you want to see him, Earl. Floyd, sweetie, feel free to follow him. Make yourself at home!"

Earl's family was... welcoming. A bit suffocating, okay, yes, but welcoming. He'd never felt so at home among virtual strangers before. "... Your family's nice," Floyd mumbled as he followed Earl closely. "Mine never would have been this nice to you. Or, hell, to me."

"Yeah, we pride ourselves on hospitality. We don't have much else to work with!" Earl laughed as he stopped in front of a door. He knocked gently, then opened it a bit, poking his head in. "Dad?"

"Earl! Come here, boy, let me get a good look at you!" Earl entered the room, leaving Floyd to cower behind the door. He'd never had a relationship so serious he'd met their parents before. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks. He'd rather not answer questions about why his hands were sticky.

"Floyd? Come on, don't be shy!" Floyd winced as Earl beckoned him in. No more stalling, then, he guessed. With another deep breath he turned and walked in, smiling as well as he could. Merle was shorter than he'd imagined, but he was the spitting image of his son; squared-off jaw with thick eyebrows and dark chocolate eyes, with silver hair instead of black and a silver mustache adorning his upper lip. Merle smiled at him.

"This is him, then?"

"Yep. Dad, this is my boyfriend, Floyd. Floyd, this is my dad, Merle." Earl smiled a little and kissed Floyd's cheek softly. "I'm gonna go stop Mom from yelling at Ariel and Sarah over earlier. Get to know each other."

Merle stood slowly, supporting himself on a cane, and extended his hand to Floyd. "I've heard a lot about you, you know."

"None of it's true," Floyd responded, shaking Merle's hand. Merle laughed softly and shook his head.

"I doubt that." Merle's voice had just the slightest tinge of an accent that Floyd couldn't quite place. Maybe French, he thought. "You've made my son very happy, Floyd."

"... Have I?" Floyd asked, hoping his bewilderment didn't show too much. Merle nodded wisely, and Floyd couldn't stop his eyebrows from going upward a bit. Earl had been telling people he was happy. Very happy. He'd always hoped Earl was content in their relationship, but so content that he was telling his parents about it, without a hint of sarcasm? It didn't sound real. Floyd had trouble believing he could give somebody that much joy.

***

Dinner was one of the most convivial of Floyd's life. The Camemberts were loud, hilarious, and warm; nothing like endless solemn and silent dinners around the Robertson family table. He briefly chided himself for eating beef brisket on a Friday, but brushed his concerns aside. Fuck it. He wasn't little choir boy Floyd anymore. It wasn't even Lent. "So," one of Earl's sisters- the taller, with shorter hair, who he'd learned was Ariel- began, "Where'd you meet Earl, anyway? Work?"

"Yeah. Guy Caballero hired me to co-anchor with him."

"You know you're the person that's stayed the longest?" Merle intoned from the head of the table, through a mouthful of mashed potatoes. "When I was working there, I couldn't get anyone to stay longer than two years."

"You retired three years after I got hired, Dad," Earl said, with a smile.

"We didn't get along very well at first, but..." Floyd gripped Earl's hand and smiled warmly at him. "I'm glad I stuck it out."

"Aww..." The sisters intoned in unison. "I wish my husband was like that," Sarah said dreamily. Ariel added, "I wish my husband had stuck around!"

"Are you twins?"

"Yep! I'm five minutes older," Ariel chirped. "Sarah keeps telling everyone it doesn't matter because we're twins but I'm older and it counts." Floyd laughed softly at the indignant expression on Sarah's face. At least they could laugh about it, he supposed. If he'd had any twins in his family they would just constantly be at each others' throats... as if the Robertsons weren't anyway.

"You know, you're kinda quiet. Earl's boyfriends are usually more talkative."

"I'm nervous. I've never actually been in a relationship so serious I met the family before, you know?" He didn't mention that his own family had instilled in him a need to keep his mouth shut most of the time. "... How many other guys has Earl brought back here?"

"Oh, just two. You're the first one he's looked at like that, though." Floyd cocked an eyebrow and turned to look at Earl, who cleared his throat and went back to his food.

"... Like what?"

"You missed it. He keeps looking at you with these big googly eyes. It's adorable." Earl blushed and shoved a forkful of peas and carrots into his mouth to keep from talking. Sure, it was no secret that he adored Floyd, but the fact that he could turn him into a lovesick puppy was kind of embarrassing.

***

"Floyd, come out on the porch a bit, would you?" Merle said after dinner, making his way to the porch and settling on a chair. Floyd glanced at Earl nervously.

"Don't worry. He does it to everyone." Earl smiled warmly. "Go on. He won't bite." Floyd bit his lip, but walked to the porch anyway, shutting the door behind him. Merle gestured to the chair beside him, and Floyd took a seat.

"My son tells me we have something in common."

"Dunno, Mr. Camembert."

"Merle."

"... Merle." Floyd's parents would have whooped the ass of anyone he brought home for not calling them Mr. and Mrs. Robertson. Being so casual was kind of scaring him.

"You were a soldier, weren't you?" Merle asked. Floyd froze. How could he tell? He didn't think it was obvious that he was in the army before.

"I... yes. Why?"

"Well, even if Earl hadn't told me, I could tell. You stand like a soldier. You walk like a soldier." Merle took a long puff off of his cigar, nudging the box on the table towards Floyd. "Have a cigar, son."

With shaking hands, Floyd took a cigar and lit it. He coughed a bit; he'd never taken to cigars the way he had cigarettes. "Why do you ask?" He repeated, hoping it didn't come off as defensive or rude.

"'Cause I was too." Merle exhaled, smoke billowing from his lips. "World War II. I was in Japan for most of it. Brief tour of Germany." Floyd pondered a moment. Huh. That certainly wasn't the common ground he'd expected. "Were you in Vietnam?"

"I... I was." Floyd looked down at his shoes. "I was in Vietnam. My uncle Harold was in Korea. But... it was 20 years ago."

"It never fully leaves you. And I can see it in your eyes." Another drag off his cigar. Merle cleared his throat. "You have the same look in your eyes I did when I came home. According to Zippy, anyway."

Oh. "... But... you don't have it now?"

"She says I don't. I never realized I did. Do you have nightmares, son?"

"... Most nights."

"So did I." Merle sighed a little. "... Earl told me he worries about you. You drink too much. You cry at night." Floyd winced. Of course Earl had told him about all of that. "He told you I helped him dodge the draft, didn't he?"

"He did."

"I didn't want what happened to me to happen to him. I saw horrible things." Merle finished his cigar, stubbing it out. "I remember watching a baby trying to nurse its dead mother in Japan. A little boy just walking getting caught in crossfire."

Floyd shuddered. He didn't want to talk about Vietnam, but... he couldn't imagine Merle wanted to talk about what he saw either. There was an unspoken bond already. "... I saw some pretty awful things in Vietnam, too. I witnessed a war crime." A pause. "I... I'd really rather not go into detail, if that's okay."

"Damn." Merle sighed a little. "I'm not gonna push you, son. But you're not alone." He leaned back as Floyd stubbed out his cigar as well.

"... How'd you get past it?"

Merle shrugged. "It took a lot of doing." That wasn't reassuring. "I haven't really gotten past it. Not fully. The scars are still there, but the wound's not bleeding, if that makes sense. Every now and then I have a nightmare, or I can't sleep. But I remember I'm more than my scars. I'm more than my past mistakes."

Floyd was quiet. "Look at me, son," Merle said. Floyd did so. "You're more than the soldier you used to be. You're not a well-trained killing machine. You're not dangerous, you're not a murderer." He reached over and gave Floyd's shoulder a gentle shake. "You're not that man anymore. You're different. What happened overseas is part of you. But it's not all of you."

Floyd remained quiet as Merle smiled at him. "You've made my son very happy. Thrilled, even. Answer something for me."

"Yes, sir."

"Who is Floyd Robertson? Besides ex-soldier, besides victim of circumstance. Who is he, really?"

A pause. Floyd had never really thought about it like that. "... I don't really know."

"Want to know who I think he is?"

"... With all due respect, we just met."

"No, I'm aware, but from what Earl's told me about Floyd Robertson... he's a decent man. He's got some rough edges, a bit of a temper, some issues he hasn't quite worked through, but we all do. But he's kind on the inside. He's gentle and attentive and loving. He adores his partner, he's good at his job, he's loyal and smart. And above all, he's turned my son's perception of himself upside down."

"What do you mean?"

"Earl didn't think much of himself before you came along. He was convinced no one would ever really love him. Not the way you have."

Floyd was silent. He didn't really realize he was crying until he felt his tears drop onto his hands. "... Oh," he choked, a little smile coming across his face. "I... I never thought of it like that." He swallowed around the growing lump in his throat.

"It's fine to cry, son, if you need to. But let me tell you one last thing." Merle smiled warmly and gave Floyd's arm a pat. "Earl thinks the world of you. And if one day you decide it's right for you, I'd be proud to call you my son in law."

"... Thanks, Merle." Floyd smiled again and wiped his eyes. "... I think I need to talk to Earl, if that's alright..."

"Of course. I'm going to hang out here a bit longer."

Floyd nodded and stood, re-entering the house. He brushed past the women of the home and smiled warmly at Earl, who was immediately awash with concern when he saw tears glimmering in his lover's eyes. "Are you okay? Why are you crying?"

He said nothing. Floyd simply gripped Earl's shoulders, pulled him close, and kissed him, with as much passion and heart as he could muster. He wasn't sure it was enough, but god, he didn't know what else to do. Earl, tense and startled at first, melted against him and gripped at his shirt.

They only split when neither could hold his breath anymore. A silence that felt like an eternity passed, as Earl gently reached up and brushed fresh tears off of Floyd's face. "You alright?"

"Never better." Floyd smiled and pressed his forehead against Earl's. "God, I love you so much."

Their moment of peace was interrupted by a choir of "Awwww!" from Earl's sisters, quickly followed by a "Dammit, leave them alone!" clearly from Zippy chasing her daughters away yet again. Earl laughed softly as he pressed his chest against Floyd's.

"Sorry about them. They just... like knowing I'm happy with someone."

"It's alright, doll." Floyd kissed his lover's forehead gently. "But... I think we should head home."

"It's early, though..."

Floyd smirked coyly, and Earl caught on immediately. "Ohhhhh." With a giggle, he kissed Floyd again, gently, and whispered, "Let me make up an excuse, then, handsome."


End file.
